Friday, January 3, 2014

Tittibhastinky Yoga

Since my break from school has commenced, I have become somewhat of a regular at my old stomping ground; the hot yoga studio. I have been frequenting this particular class time which works perfectly with sleeping in yet allows me to be finished by the time Justin comes home for lunch.

I have a made a friend of sorts. Since speaking is forbidden once the threshold to the yoga room is crossed, we communicate silently. Mostly by his farts and my trying to be polite and not react to them. They are soundless like the screams from within the confines of my chest that result when the sour stench reaches my nostrils. He also wears some sort of old man cologne which reeks once he starts to sweat. I am not sure which smell is worse.

Thrice I have had the pleasure of sitting by this man now. Each time he smiles and excitedly puts his mat next to mine despite the nearly empty room upon our early arrival. I return the smile. During class we occasionally exchange "I think I am dying" looks, mine of course are in response to the inescapable aroma, his probably from the force he is undoubtedly exerting (as evidenced by his flatulence) to squeeze into positions.

When the ninety minutes of hot yoga hell are over we lie together until all others have abandoned us. I like to wait out the naked ladies in the changing rooms. Sometimes I exit the room prematurely due to the smells... Today was one of those days. I walked into a conglomeration of vaginas and boobs of all shapes and sizes. I tried to stare at the ceiling, and at the floor. I noticed finally that someone standing beside me had on pants to which I said "I like that you have on pants," then I quickly corrected myself and stated "I mean I like the pants you have on" then she took her pants off. I am not kidding. And I was staring right at her vagina when she did it, it was very odd.   
Tittibhasana pose photo credit:

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